


Misunderstandings are as easy as A-B-C

by VeelaWings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Day of School, HP Fluff Fest 2020, Kindergarten Teacher Harry Potter, M/M, Miscommunication, Parenting Woes, Professor Harry Potter, Single Parent Draco Malfoy, mild anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26228461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeelaWings/pseuds/VeelaWings
Summary: A slow blink and Potter seemed to catch himself, clearing his throat and nodding, his smile friendly and bright when directed at Scorpius and Draco. “Hey Mal—”“Mr Potter,” Draco spoke up rudely, but necessary. “This is my son, Scorpius Black. He’ll be one of your students this year.”Potter looked completely wrongfooted for a few seconds before his mind appeared to latch onto the most likely conclusion. His expression cleared up as Scorpius took a step forward and offered a tiny hand.“Hello, Mr Potter. It’s nice to meet you,” Scorpius said, enunciation steady and practiced.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 60
Kudos: 494
Collections: HP Fluff Fest 2020





	Misunderstandings are as easy as A-B-C

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ladderofyears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/gifts).



> I'd like to thank Eva for the beta read and Emma for the brit pick 💖💖 (sorry I made you brit pick your own gift lol)

“Scorpius, are you ready to go? We’re going to be late.”

“I’m looking,” Scorpius mumbled around a bite of toast he was still chewing. The lukewarm, buttery remainder was clutched firmly in one chubby hand, making a mess of melted oil running down his skin and confetti levels of crumbs that splashed onto the carpet around his feet — that their house-elf Nipsy would have to clean up later, Draco was dreading that lecture — while his empty hand pawed through a deep sea of legos, single and partially put together pieces all chaotically mixed in one giant trunk.

“Yes, but you’ve been looking for five minutes and haven’t found Mr. Bumblebee—”

“Sir Bumblebee.”

“—Sir Bumblebee,” Draco corrected, pinching the bridge of his nose, “—And we need to leave now. It’s your first day and we still need to get you all sorted. We missed the welcome party when we visited Mémère in France.” Not that it was expressly their fault. They were scheduled to be in London during the original orientation, but missed the second owl sent to inform them that the date had been moved up. It was all rather unprofessional, not to mention outdated. Draco had been very clear when leaving his email address in the administrative office, that it was his preferred method of contact. Second to his cellular phone, which had both remained annoyingly silent of notifications.

Draco understood that the newly opened primary school was Wizard owned and operated, but considering the fact that it was to be the first Muggle-born friendly school in their country, surely they could bear to get with the times. How were Muggle parents meant to communicate in return? Buy an owl six years earlier than they really needed to? Some Muggle-born children didn’t even show signs of accidental magic by their fifth birthday anyway, to even be eligible to attend.

The longer Draco ruminated on all of this, the closer he felt to going into a snit about it, and they simply didn’t have the time.

“Okay, Scorpius. We need to leave now,” Draco said as he sat his arse down on the carpet so he could put the new pair of Muggle light up trainers on Scorpius himself, one set of velcro straps at a time. “You knew last night that you wanted to bring Sir Bumblebee with you to school, but you didn’t leave him set aside as I reminded you. Instead, you played and lost him in your lego trunk.” Despite this being an all too common speech, Draco’s tone remained patient and kind, if maybe a touch frazzled when he realised he had put the left shoe on his son’s right foot and would have to start over.

“But he’s lonely,” Scorpius sighed, weakly pushing aside a handful of legos, clearly having given up on finding his toy on his own.

“But you have room on your shelf beside Piglet and Eeyore,” Draco said, hoping to compromise. He cringed once he saw that Scorpius was wearing socks that didn’t match. 

“They’re not legos,” Scorpius tried to argue as he set the last of his buttered toast down, on the rim of the trunk. Unevenly, of course, so it fell inside the lego trunk immediately with a sticky plop that had Draco looking up at the ceiling to avoid the newest problem. Nipsy was going to be horrified.

“Well, maybe you’ll get the Winnie the Pooh lego set for Christmas, and then Mr. Bumblebee—”

“Sir Bumblebee!”

“—Sir Bumblebee can stay outside your lego trunk where it’s easy to find him.”

Scorpius let out another sigh like the entire world was ending and scraped his foot across the carpet, then he frowned and stomped so the Muggle mechanism inside would light up properly. The two seconds of flashing blue light seemed to quell him enough for his devastation to recede into a mere pout. The pout was still deadly however when combined with hopeful blue puppy eyes as he turned his chubby face up to look at Draco. “Can you Accio?”

Draco bit his lip and focused on the Scourgify he was performing on Scorpius’ hand and wrist, to avoid the full force of _that_ look. “No, Darling. I can’t. Do you remember what happened last time?”

The one and only time, Draco had tried to Accio the lego transformer that Scorpius seemed to favor, was an unmitigated disaster. Due to the nature of lego pieces — being so easy to remove or break apart — and the fact that Scorpius frequently rebuilt his transformer to include whatever blocks he fancied that day, Sir Bumblebee had been temporarily disassembled in seven parts. All of them flew towards Draco’s person at once, along with all of the lego pieces that were actually intended to be a part of the yellow toy. The pain of the incident only came second to _literally stepping on a lego_ while barefoot. Another unfortunate instance that was all too familiar.

“Please, Papa?” Scorpius whined, clutching onto Draco’s plum henley with his — thankfully clean — hands. His scrunching would still leave wrinkles that would need to be pressed out magically, and they didn’t have time. 

“Scorpius, it’s your first day. You need to be focused on being friendly to the other kids instead of playing with toys by yourself.” Draco kissed Scorpius on the forehead, then he gently scooped him up. “I know you’ve been sad since Seokjin moved away, but his Mum had a special job here with Aurors. They could only stay a few months for her case.” Truth be told, He dearly missed their previous neighbours. Single parenting was easier with a support system nearby. Sighing, he levitated the Spider-Man backpack and sent it bobbing along behind them on the walk to the living room Floo. Draco barely remembered to hit the light switch on his way out. “But that doesn’t mean all your new friends are going to leave, okay?”

“But we leave Mum and Gianna.”

Draco’s heart clenched. When he and Astoria had originally set out to have a temporary marriage of convenience — an heir for him, and the money for her to leave her strict parents — they hadn’t realised exactly how hard it would be on their son. The constant coming together, then pulling apart. While Astoria wasn’t overly maternal and had no desire to rear a child full time, she did want to visit her son and let him know that he was still loved. It helped that her new wife adored Scorpius, too. Except, now that the women were settled in Italy, it had fallen on Draco and Scorpius traveling to them instead, and their different schedules never allowed for more than a few days at a time.

“That’s because they live far away. Like Mémère. We always visit, but then we come home.” Draco set Scorpius back down and slid the backpack over his shoulders, then tightened the straps for Floo travel. “But if we make more friends here in London, we can see them every day.”

“Like Seokjin?”

“Yes, like Seokjin,” Draco promised, ruffling his son’s hair. He had Draco’s shade of ice blond but took after Astoria’s effortless beachy waves, a constant time saver in the mornings when styling by hand wasn’t an option and Scorpius was too tender headed for a Brushing Charm.

“Master Black is being late,” Nipsy interrupted, with a brown sack lunch in each hand, her sternness quite the contrast from her bright yellow dress. “ _Again._ ”

He struggled to hide a wince. “I know. Thank you, Nipsy, we’ll be back for dinner.” After seizing the two lunches with his left hand, Draco grabbed Scorpius with his right after throwing powder into the Floo. “Ironbark Academy for Miniature Wixen.”

“Bye, Nipsy!” Scorpius yelled as they stepped into green flames.

Father and son stepped out of the primary school’s fireplace with ease. Perhaps too much ease, judging by how badly they spooked a passing woman. Obviously a Muggle mother, since athleisure wear had yet to take off in Wizarding London. It was a true shame. _Draco looked quite fetching in his Adidas tracksuit._

“Why does she look scared?” Scorpius asked, his voice entirely too loud for the not quite empty hallway.

Despite Draco’s quick flash of his most charming smile, the Muggle woman turned the corner in a hurry. Hopefully not to complain to the admin that she changed her mind and wanted to pull her child out of this school. 

“Some Muggles aren’t used to magic,” Draco said quietly. They continued to hold hands on their walk to the Year 1 classroom, the faded scent of disinfectant tickling his nose. “We can’t use it in front of them, remember? Like the park behind our building. There are no brooms allowed because it’s a Muggle park.”

“Seokjin said it was _boring_ ,” Scorpius said, his short steps slower than normal as he took in the pastel wall decor.

“Well, I suppose he isn’t wrong about that.” The giant, colorful numbers and letters painted throughout the corridor seemed a bit more in line with reception. It gave enough leeway for that small but still rude part of Draco to wonder again if this was all a terrible mistake. That inner voice reasoned that wasn’t too late to turn around and hire a private wizarding tutor for Scorpius, like the one he had growing up. After all, Draco turned out exceptionally intelligent. _And a complete twat._

He wrinkled his nose before he smoothed out his face, determined to not let a sneer take root. Draco used to be a bigoted twat, but he wasn’t anymore. _Muggles and Muggle-borns weren’t any different than him_. While they lived their lives differently, they still had the same spectrum for emotions, ideas, and choices that could affect themselves and those around them, in both positive and negative ways. Mindful thinking always worked to pull him out of the swampy clutch of his old tendencies for nastiness, just like Mind Healer Bitterwood had advised at the beginning of his therapy. It kept Draco in check, helped him be a better person. A better father.

Overcome with an untimely rush of emotion, Draco gave his son’s hand a squeeze then guided him around another corner to a short hall. It was a dead end with a small mural of Hogwarts Castle and only one door on either side. The one to their left was already closed, with a plaque marking it as ‘Year 2’. The other door was still wide open and labeled ‘Year 1’. Despite his Muggle wristwatch announcing the time as twelve minutes past the beginning of class, it seems they had yet to start without Scorpius. Small mercies.

“You’re late.”

Or perhaps not.

Paused in the doorway, Draco studied the tiny girl blocking their path with her hands set on her hips with an air of self-importance. Her combination of excessive freckles and dark, bushy curls looked eerily familiar, and it caused a feeling like a stone sinking in his gut.

“Rose, please stop telling people they’re late,” said a tiredly fond voice that was even more familiar.

Draco glanced up and felt conflicted about being correct, for the first time in his life. Potter.

Due to his international travels, parenthood and odd hours worked while holed up in his potions lab, he hasn’t seen or made awkward small talk with Potter at Ministry events in over seven years. Time has certainly been kind to him. A full beard, longer curls — currently tied back, amber complexion glowing with a recent tan. Shoulders broad and pushed back with confidence that was earned and not faked. While Potter had put on a little necessary weight as a Junior Auror at nineteen, it seems he’s packed on another three stone in solid muscle mass since then and carried it into his retirement. About one month prior if Draco’s memory of the Prophet’s hysteria was accurate, some international trial or other. The point was - Potter was massively fit now, in a way Draco preferred his men.

Or maybe it was the thick, forest green sweater he was dressed in. Until Potter shifted to pat Rose on the shoulder and the beginnings of a soft stomach were apparent under the fabric’s stretch. Draco needed to remember which thoughts were particularly inappropriate for a classroom full of five-year-olds. He could feel the start of drool gathering on the sides of his tongue. _Better swallow that down._

Potter slowly straightened up. He seemed to study Draco with the same scrupulousness that had been paid to him. Taking in every detail that stayed the same — whippet-thin, poise and good posture, that single inch taller — and denoting every change. His silvery blond undercut with the top left long enough to look enticingly tousled. A few metal hoops and studs distributed across his ears and a ring in his right nostril. Henley sleeves pushed up to reveal a faded scar on his left arm, barely noticeable among the tattooed narcissus flowers, bright against pale skin. Potter’s eyes had fallen to his left hand that was missing a ring. It was now lovingly draped on his son’s shoulder to gently nudge him forward. 

A slow blink and Potter seemed to catch himself, clearing his throat and nodding, his smile friendly and bright when directed at Scorpius _and_ Draco. “Hey Mal—”

“Mr Potter,” Draco spoke up rudely, but necessary. “This is my son, Scorpius Black. He’ll be one of your students this year.”

Potter looked completely wrongfooted for a few seconds before his mind appeared to latch onto the most likely conclusion. His expression cleared up as Scorpius took a step forward and offered a tiny hand. 

“Hello, Mr Potter. It’s nice to meet you,” Scorpius said, enunciation steady and practiced. It filled Draco with pride.

“Hello, Scorpius, it’s nice to meet you too. I’m happy you’re going to be in my class.” The warmth in Potter’s voice was genuine, although he still looked at Draco, a bit unsure. “Rose, please show Scorpius where to put his things. We’ll start in a few minutes.”

“Okay, Uncle Harry,” Rose said, grasping Scorpius’s hand and skipping off without a glance back.

“It’s Mr Potter in class, Rose,” Potter corrected, rather uselessly. Rose was already chatting Scorpius’s ear off about uncles and dragons. “Erm, sorry about that…”

“A Granger-Weasley, I presume?” Draco smiled, hoping to break the awkward moment.

“My goddaughter,“ Potter confirmed with a fond chuckle. He rubbed the nape of his neck and stepped further away from the bustle of the classroom, where twenty or so kids were spread in groups among the desks, cubbies, and learning stations. Indecision seemed to waver across his brow. There was no doubt, Potter was trying to find the most delicate approach to his questions.

Draco might as well save them both the trouble. “I filed the necessary forms to revert to Black along with my mother after my father died. We decided it was best to let the Malfoy name rest with him. When I married Astoria a few months later, our ceremony was in France and largely kept out of the papers.” Nerves caused him to fiddle with his watch before continuing, his voice lowered. “Scorpius doesn’t know. What went on with the war, not the details. I haven’t tried to hide my family’s sins, he knows we stay in mostly Muggle areas and shopping here in London since our family isn’t particularly well-liked. But he’s only five. There’s only so much I can explain right now until he’s older.” The breath Draco exhaled felt exhausting. “I’m not— I can’t ask you to shield him, or anything. I’d just like for Scorpius to have the opportunity for kids to get to know _him_ , without my family’s name and baggage attached, before I write off his chance to go to Hogwarts.”

Biting his lip, Draco looked up to find Potter staring at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher. All he knew was it felt intense — enough to trigger his blush response.

“Well,” Draco hedged, after a significant pause. “I suppose I’ll see you when I collect Scorpius. Ta.” With a polite nod, he turned to go until a calloused hand grabbed his forearm to stop him. Fingertips pressing into petals.

“Wait, Mal- Draco,” Potter corrected, voice low. “I leave work by half three.” He stood there, his grip steady while he waited on Draco to… read his mind? His eyebrows seemed to implore Draco to understand something? Apparently? The concept of time, perhaps? They were both too old for whatever game Potter was playing.

“We were out of the country during registration day, but I am aware that class ends at three. I’ll be here on time, don’t worry, Potter.” Draco said, his drawl slow and skirting the edge of condescending.

“Look, that’s not what I meant.” Potter swapped his intensity for low-grade frustration and surveyed his class, then deemed it appropriate to guide Draco out into the hall for privacy. At least he left the door half-open. “There’s an ice cream shop, two blocks from here.”

“Yes, Clementines. Scorpius is partial to their coconut sorbet.”

“You know of it? No, yeah, of course. You said… yeah, Muggle shoppes, alright.” Potter rubbed his beard with his free hand - he’d yet to let go of Draco’s arm - then pinned Draco down with a _look_. “Would you like to go after school is over? Scorpius too, obviously, but… I’d like to chat.”

Draco let out a controlled breath and tried to subtly pull his arm out of Potter’s grasp to no avail. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Scorpius hasn’t been here for five minutes and already they would be asked to… It simply wasn’t fair. Why should the past affect an innocent child? “When I originally sought to enroll him here, I was assured there wouldn’t be an issue. Since it clearly is, I think it’s best that I pull him out today before he makes new friends and—”

“Wait, no. What?” Potter’s grip slid down to Draco’s wrist and squeezed briefly. “Who said Scorpius was an issue?”

Draco knew he looked unattractive when his lips pressed into a wobbly line to rein in his emotions, _but honestly_. He was completely gutted. “You! Right now. Scorpius has just walked in and—”

“Fucking Merlin, Malfoy,” Potter hissed under his breath. The following eye roll was unappreciated. “I’m trying to ask you out. On a date. For ice cream.”

What? Potter wanted to— _Oh_. “Oh.” Draco closed his eyes and tried to will away the oncoming flush of heat he felt gathering in his ears, his neck, his cheekbones. Bloody fantastic, now he’s made himself look like a right twat.

“You don’t have to say yes,” Potter muttered, rubbing his thumb over the paper-thin skin on the inside of Draco’s wrist. His hold felt like a brand, hot and claiming. A bit possessive considering they were alone in a corridor inside of a primary school, but he couldn’t deny the shiver of want that skidded down his spine.

Draco swallowed the irritating lump in his throat as his eyes fluttered open. Potter was still staring, his gaze a ravenous green. Well, time to fix what he’s bollocksed up. “You aren’t going to embarrass me by ordering something atrocious like Pistacho, are you?”

Potter frowned at first, thick brows furrowed, then opened his mouth to argue like when they were boys — until realisation hit. His expression cleared like a cloud uncovering the sun. Draco wasn’t mocking him, not harshly. No, Potter was being teased. Flirted with. A round-about way of Slytherin acquiescence.

Potter smiled wide enough for his eyes to crinkle at the corners and Draco felt his entire stomach drop out of his body. He was fucked.

“I usually get a cone of vanilla. Or chocolate when I’m feeling adventurous.”

Draco’s toes curled in his boots. “Chocolate is nice.” Potter still hadn’t let go of his wrist.

“So you’ll wait for me to get off work, then?”

“You’re implying I’ll get the chance to leave, Potter,” Draco said, recovering well enough to arch a pointed brow.

Potter chuckled and ducked his head, taking his sweet time to let go of Draco. “Only if you call me Harry.”

“Alright. I’ll see you later, Harry.” Draco bit his lip to keep his smile politely contained then walked away with the tatters of his dignity. He couldn’t help looking back as he turned the corner. His breath caught in his throat when Harry was still standing there. Eyes on him.

**Author's Note:**

> 🌻 This work is part of Fluff Fest, a Harry Potter-centered fest dedicated to fluffy themes, meet cutes and wholesome vibes.
> 
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